girls explained how they had helped with the muffins. She asked for seconds on the omelet and stole more off Cash’s plate when he wasn’t looking. The fruit salad interested her most of all.
“There’s not an apple anywhere,” she said. “It’s delicious just as it is, of course. And eye pleasing. Food that looks good is as important as food that tastes good. I can see you know that already, but where are the apples?”
“I don’t like Red Delicious, and that’s all they had at the grocery store. It’s too early for the local apples at the fruit stand.”
“I knew you had excellent taste. You have, after all, already become friends with my grandson, which means you can spot a diamond in the rough. But what apples do you like best?”
“Not too sweet. Firm and crisp.”
“Jonathans, then, and Ida Reds, although I’m not sure you can find them easily. Yorks aren’t so tangy, but you would like them, as well. At one time, we had five hundred or more. Nothing beats a York in the kitchen, although it’s a funny-looking thing. The Pennsylvania Dutch—and we had some around here, you know, although I suppose by rights we’d have to call them Virginia Dutch. Anyway—” she waved her words away “—they called it a schepabbel. Crooked apple. And the cider we made? That pie was from last year’s apple crop. But, of course, today people want apples that look like they’re made out of wax, even if they taste like sawdust.”
“Granny Grace and Grandpa Ben had an orchard,” Cash explained.
“ Have . Ben’s gone, of course, God bless him, but the orchard still belongs to me .”
“We know that,” Cash said. “Nobody’s disputing it.”
“And nobody’s helping, either.” Her expression belied the words. She didn’t look angry. Jamie characterized the set of her lips as determined.
Jamie didn’t know what was going on, but she intervened, hoping to turn the conversational tide. “There’s an orchard on this property, or at least the remnants of one. I wonder if any part of it can be saved.”
“You could try pruning the trees over a period of years if the trunk is still firm. And I’ve seen trees topped, just lopped nearly in half, and brought back to life that way, but it takes years, too, and it’s not always successful. Still, if they’re old friends…You do whatever it takes for a friend, don’t you?”
“They were somebody’s old friends. My brother-in-law’s grandmother Leah lived on this property. Did you know her? Leah Spurlock Jackson?”
“I don’t recall. I was so busy with the orchard and my children…that’s the way my life went. It races by, you know. Remember that if you have a boring day. Boring is the period at the end of a run-on sentence. Meant for a deep breath and a nap.”
“We don’t have many boring days around here.”
As if to prove it, Alison jumped down from her chair. “Ready!”
“We’ll wait until everybody’s finished,” Jamie told her daughter. “But after you’ve asked to be excused, you may put your shoes on.”
“May I be excused?”
“You may,” Jamie said with a grin.
“May I please be excused, too?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. And as soon as we’ve finished, we’ll join you.”
Cash caught Jamie’s eye and flashed her a grin. “May I be excused, too, Miss Jamie? I’d like to unload the materials before we go for that walk.”
“You bet. The sooner that playhouse is finished, the faster my life improves.”
“Now, tell me about the fawn,” Grace said, once the girls had gone into their bedroom to get ready and Cash was outside. “Exactly what did you see?”
The fawn was in the same place Jamie and the girls had left it yesterday. Today, though, it was bleating softly, like a baby lamb.
“Girls, you stay here with me,” Jamie said, when they tried to follow Grace and Cash closer. “Too many people will scare the poor thing to death.”
“It was in exactly the same spot yesterday?” Cash stood behind
“There’s not an apple anywhere,” she said. “It’s delicious just as it is, of course. And eye pleasing. Food that looks good is as important as food that tastes good. I can see you know that already, but where are the apples?”
“I don’t like Red Delicious, and that’s all they had at the grocery store. It’s too early for the local apples at the fruit stand.”
“I knew you had excellent taste. You have, after all, already become friends with my grandson, which means you can spot a diamond in the rough. But what apples do you like best?”
“Not too sweet. Firm and crisp.”
“Jonathans, then, and Ida Reds, although I’m not sure you can find them easily. Yorks aren’t so tangy, but you would like them, as well. At one time, we had five hundred or more. Nothing beats a York in the kitchen, although it’s a funny-looking thing. The Pennsylvania Dutch—and we had some around here, you know, although I suppose by rights we’d have to call them Virginia Dutch. Anyway—” she waved her words away “—they called it a schepabbel. Crooked apple. And the cider we made? That pie was from last year’s apple crop. But, of course, today people want apples that look like they’re made out of wax, even if they taste like sawdust.”
“Granny Grace and Grandpa Ben had an orchard,” Cash explained.
“ Have . Ben’s gone, of course, God bless him, but the orchard still belongs to me .”
“We know that,” Cash said. “Nobody’s disputing it.”
“And nobody’s helping, either.” Her expression belied the words. She didn’t look angry. Jamie characterized the set of her lips as determined.
Jamie didn’t know what was going on, but she intervened, hoping to turn the conversational tide. “There’s an orchard on this property, or at least the remnants of one. I wonder if any part of it can be saved.”
“You could try pruning the trees over a period of years if the trunk is still firm. And I’ve seen trees topped, just lopped nearly in half, and brought back to life that way, but it takes years, too, and it’s not always successful. Still, if they’re old friends…You do whatever it takes for a friend, don’t you?”
“They were somebody’s old friends. My brother-in-law’s grandmother Leah lived on this property. Did you know her? Leah Spurlock Jackson?”
“I don’t recall. I was so busy with the orchard and my children…that’s the way my life went. It races by, you know. Remember that if you have a boring day. Boring is the period at the end of a run-on sentence. Meant for a deep breath and a nap.”
“We don’t have many boring days around here.”
As if to prove it, Alison jumped down from her chair. “Ready!”
“We’ll wait until everybody’s finished,” Jamie told her daughter. “But after you’ve asked to be excused, you may put your shoes on.”
“May I be excused?”
“You may,” Jamie said with a grin.
“May I please be excused, too?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. And as soon as we’ve finished, we’ll join you.”
Cash caught Jamie’s eye and flashed her a grin. “May I be excused, too, Miss Jamie? I’d like to unload the materials before we go for that walk.”
“You bet. The sooner that playhouse is finished, the faster my life improves.”
“Now, tell me about the fawn,” Grace said, once the girls had gone into their bedroom to get ready and Cash was outside. “Exactly what did you see?”
The fawn was in the same place Jamie and the girls had left it yesterday. Today, though, it was bleating softly, like a baby lamb.
“Girls, you stay here with me,” Jamie said, when they tried to follow Grace and Cash closer. “Too many people will scare the poor thing to death.”
“It was in exactly the same spot yesterday?” Cash stood behind
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